


i'll help you carry on

by bisexualfpjones



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:07:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualfpjones/pseuds/bisexualfpjones
Summary: “I haven’t played since…” Archie doesn’t need to finish the sentence. FP takes a breath, understands. “Don’t think I can bring myself to.”FP feels out of his element here. He’s never been good with emotions; his or, especially, anyone else’s. Doesn’t know how to navigate those choppy waters. But he’s got a teenage boy in front of him - a kid whose entire world has shattered, so he’s got to figure out some way not to drop the ball on this one.
Relationships: Archie Andrews & FP Jones II, Fred Andrews/FP Jones II, Mary Andrews & FP Jones II
Comments: 18
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jugheadjones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jugheadjones/gifts).



> this is the most i've ever written one of the kids into a fic so like... be nice to me lmao also this technically takes place in the hedwig episode but i didnt watch that so i just made everything up
> 
> title from lean on me by bill withers

There’s a soft, but steady knocking coming from the front door. FP’s got a sandwich about halfway to his mouth, freezing at the sudden interruption. It’s 8 o’clock at night, which isn’t _late_ , really, but it’s definitely past the time for unexpected visitors.

He takes a bite of sandwich, figures it can only be someone he actually _wants_ to see. Cops and anyone looking for trouble would knock louder. So he takes a chance, yells “It’s open!” around a mouthful of cold cuts and mustard. The door creaks open, and as FP leaves the kitchen to greet whoever’s entered his home he spots a familiar quaff of orange hair. 

“Hey, Mr. Jones,” Archie says as they meet in the foyer.

“You think you’ve known me long enough to start calling me FP?” the older man teases.

“Sorry.” 

There’s something off about Archie, FP notices. Like he’s pulled in to himself. FP can’t say it’s surprising, all things considered. But he had thought Archie had been doing better as of late, pulling out of that funk he was in. “Everything alright, Red?”

Archie’s eyes shift around a bit, his feet shuffling with something like nervous energy. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, of course.” FP nods towards the living room and follows Archie to the couch. He looks around for a second for a place to drop his sandwich before settling on the coffee table, figures there’s more pressing matters at the moment than a potential mustard stain. They take seats at opposite ends of the sofa. FP turns to face Archie, arm slung over the back cushions, while Archie faces forward, elbows on jittery knees and thumbs twiddling. “What’s going on, Archie?”

The use of his name must be enough to pull the teen out of whatever headspace he’s in, at least briefly. He stops fidgeting with his fingers and straightens up, pulls a leg up onto the couch so he can face FP, too. 

FP doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t want to push whatever’s got the kid in front of him all worked up. 

“What was my dad like? When he was my age?” Archie lets out quick, like ripping a band-aid.

It’s not the question FP was expecting. Isn’t exactly sure _what_ he was expecting, honestly. His mouth gapes a little, eyes blinking as he mentally tries to reroute whatever course he thought he was on. “Isn’t this a question for your mom?” is all he can come up with.

“I want to hear it from you,” Archie says. “You knew him differently.” 

FP’s breath catches at that, feels like he’s being called out. But there’s no way Archie could know anything. Not unless Fred had-

“I mean, you guys had the band, right?”

FP relaxes, chuckles as he lets out a breath. “That what you wanna know about?”

Archie shrugs his shoulders, nods once. “We never really talked about it, that side of him. Except for that one time-”

At Pop’s. FP remembers it well. That part of the night, anyway. Things start to get a little hazy after. He feels a pang of guilt at that thought. It had taken him years to work up the courage to go back to Fred. Only managed to do it when he had reached rock bottom, and somehow he still couldn’t put the shovel down. Kept digging a deeper grave for himself. Maybe he had been trying to push Fred away, remind him exactly why they had parted ways in the first place. Because FP never felt deserving of Fred’s generosity. But even then, Fred kept finding reasons to forgive him. FP wonders if there’ll ever come a day where he learns to forgive himself.

“What do you want to know, kid?” FP asks, shaking himself out of the memory.

Archie straightens up with a sudden confidence that he didn’t have before. Like he already went over this before he showed up here. “What was he like when he was performing? Why’d he get into it? Was it important to him? Or was it something he just had fun with?”

The questions come at FP a mile a minute. His head swims, hoping he has the answers Archie’s looking for. Doesn’t want to disappoint him. “He said he did it for the girls, but that was a lie. At least partially.” FP laughs, and he can see the corner of Archie’s mouth tick up into a smile. “Your dad was a ham. Always looking for ways to get the spotlight on him.” Archie looks surprised by that. FP doesn’t blame him. The Fred Andrews Archie knows is a far cry from the rambunctious kid FP grew up with. Fell in love with...

“But he also wanted to be the next Springsteen. Said he had stories to tell. Didn’t matter that he couldn’t write for shit,” FP says fondly. “He wanted to change lives. Maybe make his own a little better.”

“So it _was_ important to him,” Archie says.

FP nods. “For a time. But then Artie - your grandpa - died, and his priorities shifted.”

A heavy silence falls over the two. FP remembers being seventeen, remembers Fred crying on his shoulder, remembers days where Fred couldn’t even get out of bed. Remembers the ache in his chest wondering how he was supposed to help his best friend through something like that, how he was supposed to make it better. He feels a similar ache now looking at Archie, the spitting image of his father at that age, history repeating in the worst way.

“I think a part of him always regretted never picking it back up,” FP manages, voice coming out soft, a little choked. He’s trying to fight back the sudden wave of grief, knows that now’s not the time. “He wouldn’t want that for you.” His hand reaches out for Archie’s shoulder to give it a reassuring squeeze.

Archie nods, eyes gone glassy as he wipes the back of his hand at the corner of one. “I know. It’s just- There’s this variety show I’m supposed to sing in tomorrow.”

“That’s great, Red!” FP smiles, patting Archie’s shoulder.

The corner of Archie’s mouth curls up, but the sentiment doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thanks. But I don’t know if I want to do it.” 

FP’s face pinches in confusion. “Why not?”

“I haven’t played since…” Archie doesn’t need to finish the sentence. FP takes a breath, understands. “Don’t think I can bring myself to.”

FP feels out of his element here. He’s never been good with emotions; his or, especially, anyone else’s. Doesn’t know how to navigate those choppy waters. But he’s got a teenage boy in front of him - a _kid_ whose entire world has shattered, so he’s got to figure out some way not to drop the ball on this one.

“Your dad was always the one with the sage advice. Even when we were kids, he somehow always knew the right thing to say. Best I can do is distract people from their problems, but Freddie knew how to get them through it,” FP admits. 

Archie sits there in silence, waiting to see where this is going.

“You want to know about your dad? Feel closer to him?” FP continues. “I can’t think of a better way than getting up on that stage tomorrow and tearing the roof off that joint.”

That gets a laugh out of Archie, a genuine smile this time that’s reflected in his eyes. 

“You carry your dad with you every day. I’ve seen it. You’re his greatest legacy.”

Archie’s gaze falls to his lap. “I feel like I fall short most days.”

“I don’t believe that for a second,” FP argues, voice stern. “Look at me.” Archie does. “If you believe nothing else I tell you, believe this: Your dad was, and still is, so proud of you.” FP speaks with all the conviction he can muster, _needs_ Archie to know this is true. “And tomorrow, whether you get up on that stage or not, he’ll be with you. And if you _do_ decide to get up on stage, I’ll be right there in the front row with your mom cheering you on. And if you feel yourself getting nervous and wanting to bail, just give me a wink and I’ll pull the fire alarm or something. Cause a distraction.”

Archie barks out a laugh at that, can’t help himself. It’s music to FP’s ears.

“Thanks, Mr-” FP raises an eyebrow at him. “FP. Thank you, FP.”

“Anytime, Red.”

Archie stands up then, and FP thinks maybe that’s the end of this little visit, but then Archie’s reaching into his back pocket, pulls out what looks like an old polaroid, and says “I was going through some of my dad’s stuff earlier. Found this in his old guitar case. Thought you’d might want it.”

He hands the picture over to FP, a little cracked and faded, but the image still perfectly visible. FP recognizes the Andrews’ garage - the one he and Fred had done all their growing up in - immediately. Even more familiar are the two boys at the forefront, guitars strapped over their shoulders, foreheads pressed together in the middle of belting out what FP’s pretty sure was “Walk This Way”. They had rehearsed that song for months until they got it perfect. It never really was, but for them they got pretty damn close.

Gladys was the one behind the camera. FP remembers that. He also remembers how hot it was that day, middle of summer in that stuffy garage even with the door open. Remembers how carefree he felt in that moment. How every moment with Fred made him feel lighter. Weightless. Like he could do anything. _Be_ anything. How it was them against the world. How they had their entire lives ahead of them…

“You two really loved each other.” 

Archie doesn’t frame it as a question, and something about his tone makes FP feel seen. Exposed like a raw nerve. He thinks maybe that should worry him. Thinks back to a time when that kind of vulnerability wasn’t an option.

He nods, eyes never leaving the picture in his hand. Says, “Yeah. We did.”

“I’d like to hear about it sometime, if that’s okay?”

FP looks up, smiling softly and nods his head. “Yeah, Red. I think that’d be okay.”

Something in Archie’s eyes lights up then, and FP can’t help but feel that same light in himself. 

“Well, I should head back,” Archie says, nodding towards the door. “Need all the rehearsal I can get before tomorrow.”

FP scoffs as he follows Archie out. “Don’t you dare start with that crap. You’re gonna rock everyone’s socks off.”

Archie tries to hide the subtle blush on his cheeks by looking at the ground, but FP can still make it out, along with the smile on the teenager’s face. 

A wave of warmth washes over him, and FP’s reminded in that moment how he’d do anything for that kid, protect him from anything. Is saddened by the fact that he couldn’t have done it sooner. He opens his mouth to say goodnight in fear that if he stays out here any longer he’ll slip into some emotional spiel that neither one of them is particularly ready to face, but he’s stunned into silence when suddenly Archie’s arms wrap around his shoulders in a tight embrace.

The act catches FP off guard. His hands stay frozen, hovering over Archie’s body for a few seconds before they settle on his back. They both need this, he thinks. Even more so when Archie mutters a _Thank you, FP_ into his shoulder. 

FP thinks that should be his line. God only knows where he’d be right now had it not been for Archie unknowingly keeping him together this past year. But Archie doesn’t need that burden, so FP keeps it to himself. Says instead “Anytime, Red,” as he pats Archie’s back. “Anytime.”

\--

It’s the night of the variety show. FP’s shaking with nerves. He’s not even entirely sure why. Maybe because he knows what tonight means for Archie, how important it is.

He’s got a jittery knee the entire car ride over with Mary - Archie having already left to help set up - to the point where she had to reach over and squeeze it, a threat of _“If you don’t stop bouncing that leg you’re gonna be leaving this car without it”_ spilling from her lips. And while FP had no doubt she would actually follow through with that threat, she also had a smirk on her face when she said it. A look that conveyed she may have found it adorable how much he cared. That maybe she was a little nervous, too.

They make it to the speakeasy a little before everyone else, easily finding seats at the front. FP had wondered why this wasn’t happening at the school, and when he asked Mary she told him something about the kids rebelling against their principal in an act of solidarity with Keller’s kid. It sounds like something Fred would’ve done, FP thinks, and that feels fitting tonight, all things considered.

“Do you know what he’s supposed to be singing tonight?” FP asks Mary as they take their seats.

Mary shakes her head. “Not a clue. He’s been holed up in the garage practicing for a week. Wouldn’t let me anywhere near it. Said it was a surprise.”

FP chuckles at that, settling into his seat and draping his arm across the back of Mary’s. 

She looks over at the hand next to her shoulder, then back to FP with an eyebrow raised. “People will talk, Jones.”

FP throws back his head in a laugh. “Please! You’re not cool enough for people to think we’re together.”

“You haven’t been cool since high school,” Mary challenges, playfully jabbing her elbow into his side. “And even then it was debatable.”

FP’s hand flies to his chest in mock offense. “Excuse me, I was _very_ cool in high school. The _coolest_.”

Mary rolls her eyes, but still smiling. “Yeah, okay.”

The lights in the room dim down then, spotlights focusing center stage. The pair straighten up then, trying to act like the adults that they are.

Keller’s kid comes out on stage to welcome everybody and start the show. 

It’s a nice enough time. Even if FP does find himself dozing off a few times, only being saved by Mary pinching his thigh. So he didn’t find a high school variety show to be the best use of his Friday night. Sue him. He’s not above admitting there’s only one thing that dragged him out tonight.

Archie’s the last act of the night, which FP would’ve liked to have known beforehand. He could’ve just snuck in late, missed everyone else. But he perks up instantly when Archie takes the stage, cups his hands around his mouth and gives a _WHOOP_ that’s loud enough to ring throughout the room.

FP can see Archie’s cheeks redden even from where he’s sitting. Mary slaps his thigh, whispers “Leave him alone,” with a small smile on her face.

Archie pulls up a stool to the mic, sits down and situates his - Fred’s, FP notices - guitar on his lap. FP hasn’t seen that thing in years. Thought it was lost to the sands of time or something. He wonders when the hell, _how_ the hell Fred got it back after pawning it off when they were teens. Or maybe Archie somehow managed to hunt it down. He’ll have to ask later. 

“Um, hi,” Archie says into the mic, a noticeable tremble in his voice. His fingers fidget atop the body of the guitar; curling and uncurling. “My dad used to sing this all the time, so I thought I’d take a stab at it, too.”

There’s a pause. A moment of hesitation they all bear witness to. FP watches on, silently encouraging the teenage boy as best he can. He thinks back to the night before. Telling Archie to focus on him and Mary if he found himself needing a little help. 

As if reading his mind, Archie looks up to where FP and Mary are seated, a silent plea on his face. FP stares back, smiles and nods his head for Archie to go on, he’s got this. And if he doesn’t, they’ll still be right here for him.

That seems to do the trick. Archie takes a deep breath and starts plucking away at the strings.

It takes a second for FP to place the tune, but as soon as Archie starts singing it all comes back to him. 

He could almost kick himself for forgetting. Fred used to sing it every goddamn day in the construction trailer. _Working On The Highway_ had ended up stuck in FP’s head for a solid year as a result of it. He still remembers the day Fred had caught him humming it under his breath while they were working on a site, how he had beamed at FP while mocking him with _“See! You do love it!”_

FP, ever stubborn, of course admitted no such thing. Because it wasn’t the song he loved so much as it was the infectious way Fred sang it; how it always meant he was in a good mood, how he’d bop his head around in time to the beat, how he’d drum on his desk like he was a one-man band.

Archie’s got that same infectious energy, FP observes, as he loosens up the further he gets into the song. His head sways, fingers deftly balancing the back and forth of plucking strings and tapping away on the body of the guitar to the beat. 

And FP’s caught somewhere between now and 1992. He’s looking at Archie, but he _sees_ Fred so clearly. And, somehow, it’s not as sad as he thought it would be. There’s something celebratory about the moment, even. Like they’re all finally reaching some catharsis. 

FP tunes back into his surroundings, and everyone’s clapping along, dancing in their seats. Those who know the words sing along. He looks over and Mary’s radiating all the pride she feels for her boy, eyes lit up and teary, but not sad. FP feels a lump in his throat, but it’s not from sorrow, either. It feels like, oddly enough, he can finally breathe again. Like this is the moment that changes everything. It’s the first time since July he’s been able to think of his best friend and not want to crawl into the dark holes he’s created for himself for so long to keep him safe. He feels an openness now. And maybe there’s a part of him that will always hurt, always ache, thinking of Fred. But the grief is starting to feel lighter. Doesn’t feel like it’s crushing his lungs anymore.

Mary reaches for his hand then, like she can sense what he’s going through. Maybe she’s going through it, too. Her fingers lock with his, and she gives his hand a squeeze that he returns. A gesture of solidarity. That they’re in this together. That they have each other.

Archie finishes the song strong, and the room immediately erupts in a cacophony of cheers. FP and Mary are up on their feet, clapping and yelling louder than everyone. FP brings his fingers to mouth, lets out a whistle that cuts clear through the noise. Archie ducks his head, hiding a smile. The kid’s too damn modest, FP thinks. Nothing like Fred was at that age. Always the showboat.

Once kid Keller wraps up the show and everyone takes their final bows Archie comes and finds them. Mary sweeps him up in a hug instantly, kissing his cheek and wiping her lipstick off as she tells him how proud she is. 

“You did good, Red,” FP says, patting Archie on the shoulder. “Your old man would’ve loved this.”

The words settle for a few seconds between the three before Mary reaches out to place her hand gingerly on the back of Archie’s neck. “What do you want to do now, hun? We can go out and celebrate?”

“Actually, I was wondering if Mr. J-” Archie catches himself, “FP wanted to go for milkshakes? So I can hear that story?” 

He’s giving FP this look like he’s afraid he might say no, which is ridiculous. FP wouldn’t deny that kid anything.

“What story?” Mary asks, looking to FP for an answer. He gives her a look, and it’s enough for her to gather it must be something Fred related. “Ah. Well, I’ll just meet you at home, then,” she says to Archie.

“You can come, too, Mare,” FP offers.

Mary shakes her head. “No. This is something for the two of you.” She turns to give Archie another kiss on the cheek, tells him to have fun. Then turns to FP to say “Have him home before midnight.”

FP smiles, gives her a nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

Mary shakes her head, gives him a kiss on the cheek, too, before heading out. 

The two boys watch her leave, and FP finds himself wishing, if even briefly, that she would stay. Thinks he needs her like a security blanket. Like he’s a child left without his adult supervision, and he’s nervous, scared.

But he’s all grown up, even if he’s spent most of his adult years acting otherwise. And he can do this. _Talk_. Open himself up. 

Archie turns to him, looking every bit of the 18 years that he is. Maybe an adult according to the state, but still too young to have lived the life he has. FP can see it in his eyes sometimes, that haunted look he tries his best to conceal. But FP sees it, because he knows what to look for. It’s the same look Fred had once his dad got sick. The same look FP saw in the mirror every day since he was 8. Archie might be better at hiding it, though. Or maybe he’s just that resilient.

“You ready?” he asks, smile bright on his face. No doubt still feeling the adrenaline from performing.

There’s still a part of FP that’s scared shitless of stepping into this role. Like now that Fred’s gone he feels obligated to watch out for his kid. And it’s heavy, that kind of responsibility. But he’s also finding maybe it’s getting easier each time he does it. And maybe it’s more comfortable than he’s ready to admit.

He looks to Archie with a new sense of ease, like there’s some guiding hand taking control, letting him know it’s going to be okay, that he can do this. FP’s never been much of a believer in anything, but the calm washing over him feels almost too familiar to ignore. And whether it’s real or in his head, it lights him up all the same.

“Yeah, Red,” he says. Reaches out to ruffle the boy’s hair, soaks in the sound of his resulting laughter as he bats FP’s hand away. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Archie adopts FP

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was originally just meant to be a one shot but julia wanted a follow up and so i decided to give her what she wants for her birthday (even though this is 4 days late shhh). hope you enjoy!!

They get a booth, situating themselves on either side as Pop Tate comes around to take their order. Peanut butter milkshakes for the both of them. Fred’s favorite. They share a surprised look before breaking out into small laughs. 

“Guess we had the same idea,” FP says.

Pop comes out with their shakes, gives Archie a pat on the shoulder and congratulates him on his performance. FP watches Archie’s cheeks go a little pink, bowing his head to hide a bashful smile as he takes the compliment. The kid’s too damn endearing for his own good.

“To Fred,” FP announces as Pop leaves, raising his glass to meet Archie’s in the middle of the table.

“To dad,” Archie responds. 

They clink their glasses. FP brings his to his lips, takes a sip of the thick liquid through his straw. He’s biding his time, if he’s being honest. Doesn’t know exactly how to start this conversation. From the beginning, maybe, but then they’d be here all night. And what does he leave out? Or does he throw everything on the table? Well, maybe not _everything_. FP at the best of times can lack a filter, but he can practically hear Fred’s voice in his ear telling him some things are best kept between them.

“Were you and my dad boyfriends?” Archie asks, cutting through the static noise of FP’s thoughts. FP almost chokes on his drink.

At least he doesn’t have to worry about a topic starter now. 

“You just go straight to the deep end, huh, Red?” 

“I’m sorry.” Archie looks panicked, eyes gone wide like he’s afraid he just overstepped his bound. “I just wanted-”

FP puts his hands up with, what he hopes, is a disarming smile on his face. “Woah, hey, it’s okay. Just caught me off guard.”

Archie nods, seems to relax a little as he slouches down into his seat. He swirls his straw around in his shake, keeps his eyes focused on the drink while he waits out FP. 

“We never really put a label on it,” FP finally says.

Archie looks up from his drink, brow furrowed. “Why not?”

“Things were…” FP trails off, tries to find the right words. “Complicated, back then.”

Archie perks, sits up a little straighter. Like he’s just been hooked into the story. “How so?”

FP can’t help but laugh. Scrubs a hand over his face. He should’ve expected this part. He thought maybe he could get away with sugar coating his and Fred’s past. Should’ve known that was a pipe dream. But maybe it’s for the best he’s being forced to confront the truth. Would be a disservice to them to tell anything else.

“There was a lot of shit going on back then,” FP says with a wave of his hand, not wanting to get into details. Shouldn’t the schools be teaching them this shit? “The world, let alone Riverdale, wasn’t a safe place for guys like me and your dad.” Archie’s no stranger to the callousness of the world, FP knows this. But he doesn’t want to dampen the mood too much. Keeps things vague. “Plus, my old man was a real piece of work, so.”

It’s the first time Archie’s ever heard mention of FP’s dad. He thinks he can figure out why. FP may not have come right out and denounced his father as homophobic, but Archie can fill in the blanks. It makes his insides twist, thinking about how a parent could be so hateful to their own kid. 

“Was my grandpa…” Archie starts, not entirely sure where he wants that particular question to end. 

“Like my dad?” FP finishes for him, eyebrow raised. Archie nods. “No,” FP says. Archie lets out a relieved sigh. “He was old school, don’t get me wrong. Probably would’ve had something to say if he knew. But he always put your dad first, at the end of the day. Couldn’t say that about most dads in this town. At least not from my neck of the woods.”

There’s a fondness in the way FP speaks about Artie Andrews. Archie’s glad he at least had someone else to look up to, despite his own father’s shortcomings. He’s also starting to realize just exactly how intertwined his dad’s and FP’s lives were.

“So, when did you and my dad start… dating…” Archie’s not entirely sure what the right word to use here is, given what he’s just been told. “Or whatever.”

FP doesn’t miss a beat answering. “Summer before senior year.”

Archie’s face lights up. “Fixing up the Shaggin’ Wagon?”

FP barks out a laugh. “You remember that?”

“It was a good story.”

FP nods his agreement, a smile on his face mirroring Archies as he looks down at his glass, traces his thumb along a bead of sweat dripping down the side. “It was a good time,” he says quietly, maybe more to himself. He’s not entirely sure.

“How did it happen?” Archie asks, voice gone softer to match the sudden shift in FP’s tone. “I mean, did you always like each other, or…”

“I was in love with Fred from the moment he came up to me on the swingset in grade school and offered me up half his sandwich,” FP admits, surprising even himself with his easy honesty. “As for _how_ it happened…” He pauses, half smirks as the memory comes back to him (never actually left him). He doesn’t look at Archie. Focuses on the condensation collecting at the bottom of his glass. Runs a finger through it as he focuses back on that day so many years ago. 

“We’d been working on the van a coupla weeks,” he says. “Something about the summer heat and being around each other so much, working so closely… Guess it was kind of inevitable. I could feel something building up. Or, I thought I did. Ended up being right, anyway,” FP softly chuckles. “Anyways, we took a break one day. Sat in the back of the van and just lied there talking, staring at each other.” He pauses, licks his lips. Remembers that moment with such vivid clarity it steals his breath. “I couldn’t tell you who made the first move - that part’s kind of a blur - but, next thing I knew we were kissing. And then…” FP stops himself by biting the inside of his cheek, but it does nothing to hide the grin on his face as he looks up across the table. “Well, let’s just say we named the van soon after.” He can’t help himself. If Fred decides to haunt him tonight just to kill him, he thinks it’ll be worth it.

Archie’s face is caught somewhere between a laugh and a cringe. “That was maybe more info than I needed.”

“I’m sorry, Red,” FP laughs, a full bodied thing that has his eyes tearing. “It was just right there.”

They both take a second to settle down, taking sips of their now half-melted milkshakes. Archie’s the first one to speak. 

“So, what about my dad?”

“Hm?” FP looks up, mouth still on his straw.

“You said you were in love with him from when you were kids. Did he feel that way, too?”

“Oh. Um.” FP takes a long sip of his shake, suddenly wishing it was mixed with something stronger. He clears his throat, trying to stall his answer. It’s another one of those complicated parts of their past. One of the things he doesn’t really want to face. Doesn’t know if he’s ready to. But he supposes he can’t really back out now. Archie wants the truth, and FP doesn’t want to be a disappointment. “He said he did, but I don’t think I ever really believed it,” he solemnly admits.

“Why not?”

FP really doesn’t know what the right thing to say is. He can only speak for himself, but he doesn’t think it’s fair to share his truth without Fred there to defend himself. He should’ve talked to Fred about this when he was alive. They should’ve talked about all of it. And it’s just another item in FP’s long laundry list of regrets. 

“There was just… always someone else… with Fred…” is what FP settles on, though he still struggles to get it out.

“Like my mom?” Archie asks, and it’s a fair question, FP has to admit. But he shuts that down immediately.

“No. Your mom and dad happened after.”

Archie looks a little relieved that that’s not a conversation they have to have. FP is, too. That’s not to say he didn’t still have his own insecurities to work through regarding Fred and Mary’s relationship, his regrets that he couldn’t be for Fred what Mary could, but his animosity was always focused inward. Never aimed at _her_. He liked Mary too much to do that to her.

“Was it Mrs. Lodge?”

FP has to chuckle, waving his finger at Archie in amusement. “You’re a smart kid.” He sits up a little straighter, raps a knuckle on the table. “Yeah, it was her. And others, but. She was a whole separate beast. I got it in my head that she was my biggest competition or something, which was childish, in hindsight. Fred wasn’t the only one running around chasing skirts. I had to keep up appearances in case my old man-” FP stops, eyes going a little dark before he clears his throat, reroutes the thought. “I wasn’t being fair to your dad, and I knew that even then. Was just too stubborn to admit it.”

“You wanted to push him away. Because you didn’t feel good enough.” Archie says it with such understanding, like he knows _exactly_ how FP felt. 

FP doesn’t know why the hell a kid like Archie would know that feeling, but it makes him want to burn down the world that taught him to.

“I was never good with having nice things. And Fred was the nicest damn thing-” FP almost chokes on his words. He can feel his throat tightening up, his eyes stinging. He takes a second to collect himself before continuing. “I knew we were never gonna be able to have the life he wanted; the white picket fence, the kids.” He looks pointedly at Archie, a soft smile on his face. “We had our fun, but it was never meant to last. Fred was more stubborn about it, but I think he knew it, too. Probably why we were able to stay friends after.” Either that or their insane codependency they could never shake even with their worst fights. They were tied to each other for life, for better or for worse.

“So why didn’t you try again later?” Archie scoots forward to the edge of his seat, suddenly feeling bolder. “I mean, times are different now, right? You two could’ve made it work.” Maybe it’s weird for him to be retrospectively rooting against his parents getting back together. And maybe there was a time that was all he wished for. But Archie’s old enough to know that relationship ran its course for its own reasons. And his parents at least still liked each other. He knew that was rare. Archie had felt an inkling of something between his dad and FP that first night in Pop’s. Just could never place his finger on it. He can’t help but wonder now what would’ve happened if he had. If he could’ve maybe brought them together. What life would be like now…

“I was scared,” FP admits with a brave honesty he’s never felt. “After everything we went through, everything _I_ did…” He goes quiet, reflecting. “I didn’t think I deserved it. I was lucky enough he even wanted to be friends again. I didn’t want to ruin it.”

There had been a time where he thought maybe a second chance had been on the table, but neither he nor Fred ever pushed for it, so they settled comfortably in the inbetween space they had carved out. Content to forever dance around their past, always skirting close to the edge of truth without ever diving back in. FP wonders now what’s worse; to have gone after what he wanted and face rejection, or sitting here never knowing what would’ve happened if he tried.

“I think he would’ve said yes,” Archie says with stunning confidence, as if he’s reading FP’s mind. 

FP doesn’t know if he believes that, but instead of arguing it he just smiles softly at the boy, appreciative of the sentiment. 

“I would’ve told him to, at least,” adds Archie.

“You would’ve been okay with us dating?” FP asks, can’t help but feel surprised. It’s not that he thinks the kid has an ounce of hatred in his entire body, but finding out your dad’s gay is bound to put a pause in anyone’s step. FP’s also not blind to the fact that he’s _him_ , and that alone would be cause for concern.

But Archie just nods like it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I like you, FP. And you made my dad happy. Something changed in him when you came back around. I could tell how much he missed you.”

Something about that hits FP differently. He doesn’t know if it’s the words themselves or who they’re coming from or maybe a mix of the two, but all the same he feels a tugging in his chest. He’s trying his damndest to keep it together right now, but he’s holding on by a thread. 

“I think it would’ve been cool if, like, you had become my step-dad or something.”

Archie’s voice is so quiet FP has to strain to hear him. But he does, and all hope of holding back his emotions has just been launched out the window. 

He wipes the tears from under his eyes, can’t help but laugh at what a baby he is. “You can’t say shit like that to me, Red. Gonna make me a blubbering fool in the middle of this diner.”

Archie laughs. It sounds like he’s crying, too.

The two take a breather to settle themselves down, wiping away tears. They fall into a comfortable silence. FP mulls over what Archie has said. Wonders what life would’ve been like as Fred’s husband. Archie’s dad. It’s the exact sort of thing he never let himself wish for when he was younger. The exact sort of thing that always seemed out of reach, unattainable. But maybe it was closer than he realized, and he was just too scared to reach out and grab it.

“Do me a favor, Red.” He says it to Archie, but it sounds like maybe he’s speaking to himself, too. “Don’t ever be afraid to go after what you want. Don’t stand in your own way. Promise me.”

FP’s eyes betray every ounce of regret he’s felt in his long, tumultuous life. If he can stop Archie from ever making those same mistakes, maybe it’ll all have been worth something in the end.

“I promise,” Archie says. He knows he’ll have his moments of weakness, but he hopes he can look back on this moment as a source of strength, keep those demons at bay. “But, you have to promise you won’t keep beating yourself up forever.” He’s not the only one with hang-ups to overcome.

FP’s spent his entire life beating himself up over shit both in and out of his control. It’s always been a constant battle with him, and Archie must know that. Knew exactly what card to play. _Touché_ , FP thinks. But since it’s Archie who’s asking, FP thinks he can put in the effort this time around. “I promise.”

Archie smiles, and FP thinks that right there is enough to make it all worth it.

“Alright.” FP slaps a hand on the table, shifting the mood. “Enough of this sappy crap. How about we get some pie before I get you on home to your mom?”

FP’s got his other arm up, half turned in his seat to call Pop over when Archie says “Hey, FP?” FP rests his arm on the back of the booth, turning forward to face Archie, giving him the go-ahead. “I, um.” Archie looks nervous all of a sudden, gaze going down to his lap as he gathers up the nerve to say what he wants to. FP waits patiently until Archie’s looking up at him again. “I kind of already look at you like another dad,” he finally says, sheepishly. “If that’s okay…”

FP’s heart feels like it’s about to burst right out of his chest. He can’t imagine what the hell he’s done in his life to end up here, feeling like this, having someone look up to him like that, but he likes it. Doesn’t want to throw it away like he’s done with every other good thing that’s ever been in front of him. It’s a bittersweet feeling. He thinks back to that day in the trailer, talking to Fred about second chances. He fumbled his shot then, but maybe he can make up for it now. It’s a chance at the life he wanted. Only thing missing is Fred. FP needs Archie just as much as Archie needs him to lessen that ache. FP just can’t believe Archie’s somehow deemed him worthy enough to fill that role. It’s not something he’ll ever take lightly, or for granted. “Yeah, Red,” he says, voice gone a little breathless. “It’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos much appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos much appreciated :)


End file.
